


All Summer

by TuesdayAfternoons



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-06-09 11:51:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6904996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuesdayAfternoons/pseuds/TuesdayAfternoons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is a counselor at a outdoors camp in the summer of 2004. Exciting and full of energy, his personality cancels out his partner counselor, Castiel Novak's, cautious personality. The two can hardly stand each other. Eventually, as the summer progresses and a dare Dean can't back down from comes along, they cannot hide their feelings for each other any longer. Falling in love all summer is hard, especially when the two boys know that once it ends, they may never see each other again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

June, 2004

My old man never wanted Sam and I at home over the summer. He’d always make up some stupid excuse that ‘we needed the fresh air’ or something. I’d always known better, that the ‘fresh air’ was actually code for 'I don't want you living with me over the summer' for him. He’d ship the two of us up north to a summer camp called Camp Cedar. At first, I had been angry over it, but as the years went by, and each summer Sam and I would go again, it eventually grew on me. I had come back even when I’d moved out, and eventually became a counselor. 

I always arrived early to camp—counselors were expected to come a day early—but I was always one of the first ones there. This year I had been assigned to cabin six, the farthest one from the main hall, which kind of sucked. It had a nice view of the lake though, which made things a tiny bit better. The cabin was placed on a hill, and there was a balcony coming off the back end. 

Cross legged on the floor, I sat next to my green duffle bag. It was filled with my clothes for the summer, the normal bathroom necessities, but the space was mostly used up with the extra food I packed. With my long summers spent here, I was pretty knowledgeable on what one should bring while coming to camp, and candy and sodas made the top five, even though outside food wasn’t permitted in cabins. My mind wondered who would be my buddy counselor. Hopefully someone who didn’t mind bending the rules every now and then. 

The door shoved open, and a dark haired guy stumbled into the open space, his huge, over packed suitcase falling on the dusty floor in front of him. “Whoops,” he muttered before he bent to pick it up. His thin arm extended, and he grabbed the long handle that had fallen prisoner to the floor, and yanked it up in a bit of a tense manner. He let out a bit of a huff when he straightened up, eyes wandering around the small room. 

I raised my eyebrows, waiting for him to notice me as he examined the cabin. Shabby old bunk beds, wooden walls and floors. Nothing special, really. This guy, on the other hand, was pretty attractive. He had somewhat of a baby face, prominent cheeks with just the right amount of chub on them, and the brightest, dark blue eyes I’ve ever seen. As he looked at the cabin, I looked at him. 

“Oh,” he said, his gaze finally dropping to me. “Hello.” 

“Hi,” I replied, smiling up at him, eyebrows still raised. “I’m Dean.”

“Castiel,” he introduced himself, nodding his head once. He had a weird name, and I think he might have known that because he looked so uncomfortable while saying it. Maybe he just was shy, and didn’t like new people. “So, I’m assuming that you’re going to be counseling with me this summer?” 

“Yup,” I popped the ‘p’. 

“Top or bottom?” He said, glancing at the bunks. 

“Top,” I reply instantly throwing a cocky smile in his direction. “Wait, you meant the bunk beds. Bottom, please,” I’ve been waiting all year to make that joke. The counselor I was paired with last year got a kick out of it. 

Castiel looked at me, somewhat confused, and his shoulders tense. “Okay.” 

We both got situated after that, he put his pink sheets and pillows on the top bunk while I threw an army green sleeping bag on mine. I could already tell we were off on the wrong foot, even though we’ve hardly spoken. Maybe it was the top or bottom joke I tried to pull. That was a bit risqué, even for me. I shrugged it off, though, assuring myself that it wasn’t that, but deep down, I had a feeling it was. 

“How old are you, Cas?” I ask after a good twenty minutes of silence. Castiel had climbed to his new bed for the summer, and started reading a book. It’s awkward, and I, for some reason, am laying backwards on my bed, stomach up and feet resting on my pillow. I crane my neck so I can see his reaction better. 

His blue eyes roll. “I just turned nineteen,” he says. Heat seems to gradually sink into his chub cheeks, coloring them a faint pink, and I fight to read his expression. It’s a good mix between embarrassment and annoyance, but he puts the lengthy book that he had been reading down and leans over the bunk to get a better look at me. 

“I’m twenty,” I reply. 

He cocks his head, like he was going to question it, but no words come from his slightly parted lips, just a breathy intake of air. His blue eyes flutter before he leans back onto the bed. 

I sighed, and shifted so my feet were hanging off the end of the bed. “We should probably head down to the main hall. There’s a meeting or something we have to get to.” 

“You’re right,” he replied within a second, sitting up again. 

The meeting was no different than last years, just another check list of things we had, the rules, who would be doing what, and how it would be done. Stuff like that. Cas and I had chosen a table not far from the front, so we had a good view of the owner of the camp. He never spoke, though I commented on all the rules I was already breaking. He glared at me a couple of times, blue eyes seeming to burn red. It wasn’t very intimidating, though. More like when a kitten gets angry and thinks it’s a tiger. I chuckled under my breath. 

“You bring food to camp?” Castiel mutters, looking at his green Chucks as we walk out of the main hall. His feet shuffle the ground, kicking up dirt and making the cloud of dust swirl around his jean-clad legs. “What about ants?”

“Ants have never really been a problem here,” I say, smiling. “It’s more of the rats.” 

He looks up this time, eyes wide. “You’re kidding.” 

I grin, showing teeth. “You’ve got me there,” I laugh. 

He scoffs and looks away, gazing off to the trees that surrounded the dirt and gravel path. Through them, there are other cabins, and beyond them, the lake. I love the lake here. It’s not like other camps, mucky and gross; it has the clearest blue water I’ve ever seen. It’s great for tubing and canoeing. 

The sun’s just beginning to set, the sky turning orange as it began its journey to the other time zones. The tall cedar trees are starting to cast their long, sort of eerie shadows on the camp. I think it’s very pretty, but Cas looks uncomfortable. The look of unease on his face is so defined, I’m sure that he is going to say something about it. Maybe he’s just thinking about how long he’d be away from home. Maybe he left the stove on. Maybe he doesn’t like the dark. 

We brush are teeth off of the back porch, our water bottles acting as the water supply that usually comes from a sink. The stars are nice to look at, their swirling constellations and patterns never fail to amaze me. Castiel keeps his gaze at his chucks still, avoiding all contact with the outside world. What the hell is wrong with this guy? 

I grab my water bottle and head back inside cabin six, and rid myself of my sweat pants. It gets really stuffy in here at night, and I hate sleep sweating. It ruins my hair in the morning. As I’m rummaging around in my duffle, Cas walks back into the cabin, but after that, I hear no footsteps. 

I turn, to see him looking right at me, blue eyes seeming out of it. He’s looking at my legs, the ones exposed because I’m in my boxers. I stare at him staring at me, and finally choke out an awkward cough of an answer. “You know, the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid.” 

Castiel looked up from his trance, eyes narrowing. “Sure you did,” his curt voice cut through the room. I shrug my shoulders, and he crosses the short distance between us and crawls up to his place on the top bunk. His green shoes fall from his perch one at a time when he unties them, letting them dangle in the air before releasing them to the voyage down to the floor. He doesn’t bother to change into pajamas or anything. I stare at the green chucks for a moment. 

Definitely off on the wrong foot. 

I flop on top of my sleeping bag, waiting for sleep to come. Even though Cas and I are very different, it’s one of my smaller problems right now. Tomorrow, we have to adjust to a group of screaming nine through fourteen-year-olds. I close my eyes, drifting off listening to Cas hum the tune of a nineties song. 

In the morning, Castiel is awake and moving before I even have one eye open. He’s lacing up the green chucks, and he hasn’t changed from the clothes he slept in or wore yesterday, the only exception being the stupid green ‘Camp Counselor’ tee shirt replacing the one he wore the day before. Ah, starting the counselor life early. 

I roll out of my cot groggily, nearly slumping over and hitting my head on the nearby wall. I heard muffled laughter from a bunk in front of me. As I turn, I wipe the sleep out of my tired eyes. Castiel is sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, and chin resting on the tips. His small grin has soft chuckles being emitted from it, his shoulders shaking as he laughed. 

“Clumsy,” he points out, voice oddly gruff for his laughter. 

I give him a look. “I’m tired, okay?” 

He lifts his shoulders. “Okay.” 

I pull on the ridiculous neon green tee shirt that the camp has provided and accompany it with a pair of black shorts. Pretty kid-friendly, if I do say so myself. I’ll save my usual Metallica tees for later. 

The campers normally come in groups of twelve, at most fourteen, and they usually stay for one or two weeks at most. A new group every week, which can be kind of exciting. Especially if a kids annoying. That’s when it comes in handy that they leave quickly. Eleven weeks of group after group was nice. 

I can already hear the chatter of the first group. Basing on their voices, they sound about maybe thirteen? They crack frequently as they bid their farewells to their parents. 

I glance at Castiel, who opened a shutter to peek outside. 

“Show time,” I mumble, opening the door, taking my first official step into summer. 

I navigate my way down the steep stairs, looking at the new flock of kids. It's a bit foggy out today; it swirls low around the lake and groups around the bottoms of hills. As I look more closely at the first group, I realize was right about their age; they all look to be about thirteen, maybe even fourteen. I grin at them, adrenaline pumping thick through my veins. I can tell this group is going to be fun—not just because they’re the first ones here, but also that they’re probably into all the stuff I am. Food runs at two A.M., kick ball games at night. Castiel would most definitely hate all of it. 

“Hello!” I my voice is loud and deep, I almost sang the two syllable word. Some kids grin, and others say hi. 

Castiel glares, like I’m being disrespectful. I don’t see the problem. 

As soon as we get in front of them, Cas and I say the exact same thing, as if we’ve rehearsed it or something, like those stuck up counselors who care about the rules and being overly positive. It’s weird. 

“We’re your counselors.” 

“I’m Dean,” I grin. 

“I’m Castiel,” he smiles. The first time I’ve ever seen him show teeth. His lips curl perfectly, and dimples show on the crooks of his face and cheeks. 

“Welcome to cabin six.” 

There it is again. Castiel’s head turns, and, exchanging confused glances as if we were on a queue, I lift my shoulders and drop them. He shakes his head. 

The boys are, as I assumed, rowdy. The dusty cabin might as well be a war zone as they claim their beds. I lean against the wood door frame and watch them; Castiel simply sits on his bunk with his green chucks still on his feet, waiting for it to be over. The kids shout and laugh as they try, almost drunkenly, fitting their sleeping bags and blankets over the bunks—a couple of them hitting their heads on the ceiling if they are on the top. I cringe into the door frame, wondering how and why they didn’t complain about it. 

The first day of camp went by in a blast. Castiel and I had gotten the first group of boys tested for swimming in the lake, and gotten them used to running around the site. We have water activities tomorrow, canoeing and tubing and such, so the swim testing was necessary. It had surprised me when Cas told me he was a qualified life guard, and that it didn’t matter there was none on duty. He had a certificate and everything.

The guys were all rambunctious, loud, and they never stopped yelling and shouting and laughing. The twelve kids had lived up to all of my expectations of them. Cas, however, obviously had a distaste for their unruly behavior. As I encouraged it, Castiel would always have some polite way of saying ‘quiet down’ or ‘hands to yourself’. I could already tell that he was more of a strict counselor, where I, being more of a child than an adult myself, would be the ‘crazy one’. 

At dinner, all twelve boys sat, crushed into the first two picnic tables, leaving Cas and I alone with the third one. It was sort of nice, sitting across from him, watching him as he watched our group, like I'd watch him looking at the cabin yesterday. 

“May you stop?” Castiel said suddenly, making me jolt my head backwards. 

I set my sandwich down, tilting my head to the side as I did. “Stop what?” 

“Looking at me,” he pointed out like it was an obvious fact. His nimble fingers plucked a French fry from his plate, and he popped it into his mouth. He chews slowly and carefullly, awaiting my answer. 

“I’m not looking at you,” I scoff, though I know he’s aware that I was lying through my teeth. I lean forward, my elbows resting against the rough wood of the picnic table. I've totally ignore my food that rested in front of me, the sandwich and grapes neglected entirely by me. 

Cas narrowed his eyes, and leaned forward as I did. “What does it gain you to lie?” 

I shrug. “Nothing, really.” 

He sighs heavily, cutting our awkward excuse of a conversation short and gets up, supposedly to get more food from the salad bar. My eyes follow him as he stalks off in the direction I had predicted. 

Now, counselors are required to wait outside as the kids take showers and brush their teeth for the night, so Castiel and I sit, on opposite sides of the bench, staring at the bathrooms. Man, I’ve always hated those. They’re full of bugs, and they’re not always the cleanest. As the years went by, I’ve figured out that the custodians clean it on the Sunday mornings of each weekend, so I always take my weekly showers Sunday afternoon. 

Cas scrapes the white toes of his green chucks on the pavement, his feet hardly reaching the ground from how far back he’s sitting on the bench. He’s looking at them intently, like he did last night. He’s a pretty weird guy. 

“How was your first day?” I ask, watching his feet now, too. 

Castiel doesn’t respond for what seems like a very long time. His shoes drag along the cement, making only the softest of sounds. “My day was fine, thank you,” he almost mutters. “Yours?” 

“Good,” I chuckle, leaning back against the cedar tree behind me. There’s trees everywhere at this place. 

The small start of a conversation stops there, like they always do when I try to talk to this guy. Just like at dinner. I wonder why he’s always cutting our little talks of so soon like that. It’s sort of rude. Then again, he did confront me about looking at him earlier, and that could be weird for him. What am I saying? It’s weird for me, too.

The way Castiel talks! He just has such and odd way of speaking, like he’s from one of my high school history text books. He’s probably just from a classy family or something like that. The two of us sit in tense silence, watching his green shoes.

None of the boys wanted to sleep the first night. About two hours after lights out, they were still howling with laughter, carrying on with their same loud antics as they had earlier today. I can tell that Castiel is on the edge of yelling. He’s sitting on his bunk with a reading light on, and with the faint glow of the light off the pale pages of the paperback, I can see his angered expression. I’m lying backwards on the bed again, attempting to drown out the laughter with my headphones and some AC/DC. 

Rather than yelling, like I’d expected him to do, he clears his throat and says, “I know it’s your first night here, but we really do need to sleep.” In one of the most calm, collected voices I’ve ever heard. Maybe it was how proper he always sounds, or whatever, but all of the boys fall silent, like Castiel has some special influence on them. I stare up at him in shock, wondering if he has some kind of magic power. If I’d tried to speak up, I would probably end up yelling, which is not something anyone would wish to see. However the guy did it, the boys were asleep before twenty minutes had passed. 

The next day, I'm pushing a big green canoe off the sandy shore, it scraping horribly against the fine grains. I jump into it at the last possible second. I wobble a bit, before finally steadying. 

“Don’t be so reckless,” Castiel mutters, shoving his ore into the clear water. It pokes at the white sand at the bottom of the lake. 

I totally ignore Cas, and look up from the boat, my eyes scanning for the boys who can’t be more than a hundred meters away from us. I plunge my ore into the lake as well, and sit down on one of the wooden slats that serve as seats. Cas and I begin to row in harmony, catching up to our group of cabin six boys. 

As we navigate through the other three canoes, I’m fairly surprised that we only run into one, earning grimaces from the three boys on board. Castiel shrugs apologetically, and I just continue to paddle. When we get to the front, I put on one of my biggest grins. 

“Who’s ready to canoe around this lake?” I shout. 

Cheers and claps from the boys are the only things that reply to me, and we all set out on a journey around the clear, blue lake. 

My arms ache before we’re even halfway around. Man, I’m out of shape. Cas’ stamina is faltering as well—his strokes were obviously slowing down. I debate internally, if I should continue to paddle and keep Castiel happy, or if I should see how long it takes him to notice I’m not rowing any more. My mind shifts between the two, but I eventually choose option one. 

“Are we almost done?” Someone complains from behind me. I’m immediately regretting my decision, my arms feeling like they’re on fire. 

“I wish,” I groan. 

Cas is humming the tune of Thunderstruck, by AC/DC. I chuckle, remembering I had just been listening to the Razor’s Edge album just last night. I wonder if he had overheard and now has the song stuck in his head, or if it had just came to him. 

“Thunder,” I sing, my voice low.

Castiel flinches. “Oh, God, you heard me,” he says, stopping his humming automatically. 

“Awh, C’mon,” I groan, feeling myself hoisting to my feet in the rocking boat. “Why are you so afraid to have some fun?” I’m suddenly angry with him. The past few days he’s been nothing but a goody-two-shoes. A good-two-green-shoes. Whatever it was. 

“Dean!” Cas hisses. “Sit down!” 

“No,” I grin, and begin to shift my weight back and forth, rocking the canoe. What the hell am I doing? Sure, I’m this cocky, annoying guy, but this? This is a bit much. 

“Dean! Please! You’re going to tip the boat!” 

“I am not going to—”

And that’s when the canoe tipped, sending us both fully clothed into the crystal blue waves, gasps and screeches coming from the boys behind us. Castiel screams, a loud, call for no one. 

Wet clothes stick to my skin uncomfortably, and I can see a croc of mine floating nearby. My chest heaves over and over again, and the heat flushing across my cheeks is a deep fuchsia. I can hardly stay above the water I am laughing so hard. 

Castiel treads the water easily, face red and contorted with anger. His dimples are back, on his chub cheeks and on the sides of his face. This time, his expression is horrifying, unlike the look he’d given me a couple of days ago at the counselor meeting. I grin brightly at him. 

His face doesn’t change.


	2. Chapter 2

Mid-June, 2004

Weeks and three rounds of campers have passed since the canoe incident. I thought that it had been funny—hilarious, even—and in the beginning, I tried to pull it off like it was meant to happen, even though it was clearly unplanned. Castiel has been angry with me since the moment it’d happened, and even though it had been nearly four weeks, he has only spoken to me if he absolutely needed to. It had kind of pissed me off in the beginning. What am I talking about? It still pisses me off. 

I lean against the cold, white tiles in the bathrooms. I can feel them pressing white lines on to my bare, somewhat sun burned back. The custodians have freshly cleaned the bathrooms, hence the only reason why I’m showering now, and Castiel and I’s fourth group comes in tomorrow morning. It was Sunday after noon, in between campers coming and going. I told Cas that the restrooms were newly tidied up, but that stubborn bastard has refused all of my advice. I can’t stand the guy. Sure, he’s really attractive and all—like really, really attractive—but he’s just so upsetting? Sure, I water logged his green Chuck Taylor’s a few weeks ago, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. Or, at the least, on speaking terms. At least I didn’t put shaving cream in them, like the boys last week dared me to do. 

I rinse shampoo out of my hair, it leaving the subtle scent of strawberries where it had just been. Girly, I know, but hey—it smells good. My hand grasps the cold, metal lever that controls the flow and temperature of the water running water, and turn it hesitantly to off. I shiver at the loss of the warm water running constantly, the comforting feeling being replaced by the cold. I reach my hand out for the towel I’d left on the bench outside the shower, my palm seeming to hit everywhere except what I needed. 

“Here you go,” someone—not just someone, I’d recognize the soft voice anywhere—says, plunging their hand through the gap in the shower and the curtain, holding tightly on to the towel I was looking for. I nearly swipe it out of his hands. 

“Thanks,” I grumble. Castiel sighs loudly, like just my voice annoys him, mere seconds after I thanked him. He is so stubborn. Why can’t he just get over what happened almost a month ago? The water from a couple showers over is turned on, and I can hear the falling of clothing to the floor as the water heats up. Well, at least he’s finally taking my good advice. 

I dry off as quickly as I can, desperate to get out of the bathroom. God, Cas really ticks me off. His angry little scoff was like he wouldn’t have gotten the towel for me if he’d known it was me behind the curtain. I shuffle out of the shower, the light blue towel wrapped securely around my waist, just to see Castiel, dressed in only boxer shorts, back to me and feeling the water in the shower he’d turned on. 

I could almost hear my breathing hitch. It was just a sharp, intake of breath—there was no way he could have heard it. But, moments after I’d inhaled, he turns, looking at me dead in the eye with panic stricken throughout his expression. His eyes darted downward for a very long, very awkward second, and then returned to my face. His breathing sounds uneven, too, even from across the bathroom. Man, if I’d known that he wasn’t in the shower, I would have never gotten out so early. We stand there for a good three minutes, just looking at one another, steam pouring from the shower that Castiel had turned on. 

Suddenly, his movements almost mechanical, Cas is stripping from the one article of clothing he had on, and jumping behind the curtain in record time. He was so fast; I’d seen nothing at all. Finally, that weird-ass staring competition was over. I sigh, relived I could get changed in peace. I tug on a plain black tee, and threw my underwear and jeans on hastily. I can’t wait to get out of here—I’m not sure if it’s the steam from the shower Castiel is in, or if it’s that I’m just nervous, but I’m sweating. I grab my shoes, not even bothering to put them on as I run out the door, and clutch my towel tightly. I almost sprint back to cabin six, eager to get as far away from Cas as possible. 

When in the small cabin, I throw my towel across an empty bed and toss my shoes on to the dusty ground. Damn, that was weird. And the fact that Castiel hadn’t waited for me to turn around, how he’d just taken off his underwear right then and there. Maybe he buckled under pressure or something. But man, I wish I would’ve gotten a look at some of that. I sigh, thinking it over again. You’re mad at the guy, remember, Dean? Don’t think about that stuff. It’s weird. I push the thought of Castiel out of my head and drop back onto my bunk. 

He’s hot. Like, unnaturally hot. Patrick Dempsey hot. Actually, not that. No one’s as hot as him. But Cas is definitely around there. I’m tapping my foot now; I’m growing anxious for his return. He fucking undressed in front of me. I wonder what Patrick Dempsey would look like naked….

“Gah!” I flew up as the cabin door opened, sitting up straight like some teen whose mom had caught ‘em with his hand down his pants. But no, it was just Cas—Cas with wet hair…and it looked really good. Sex hair, but times two. 

He doesn’t say anything, but I could tell he was uncomfortable from the shower incident earlier. He’s pacing around the room with a towel in his hand, like he’s done something wrong and was waiting to get yelled at. I reach under my bed, feeling for something—anything—I can shove in my mouth. I come up with a bag of skittles. I rip it open and practically down the bag.

As I’m chewing, I hear a sigh of disgust. 

I chew louder, opening my mouth a bit, to make it louder. 

“That is so gross,” Cas grumbles, hiding a laugh sitting down on a bunk. Instead of having his ugly green chucks on properly, he’s stepping on the backs of them. Odd. 

“Yeah?” Skittles practically fall out my mouth. 

He shivers, though I can tell it’s a joke. “You’re practically a heathen.” 

I grin, and hell, he smiles, too. 

Later at night, when everything is quiet and the crickets are chirping, I hear Cas mumble something from the top bunk. It’s unintelligible, like Sammy when he’s sleep talking. 

“What? You awake?” I groan, shifting to my left side. 

He says something again, this time more forceful, but I still can’t understand a damn word that comes out of his mouth. “What?” I hiss. 

“You know, you really don’t suck as much as I thought you did,” he grits. I can practically hear his teeth grinding together. Is it really that hard for him to admit? That burns a little. 

Just as I’m about to let another gay joke out of my mouth, I stop myself, because, damn, last time that happened I got a big lecture from Cas. “I’m happy you think that.” 

I can tell he’s smiling. “I’ve spent so much time hating you—or trying to hate you, really—that I wasn’t really paying attention to how funny you are. You know?” 

I’m blushing, for some god damn reason. It wasn’t even a compliment, Dean, get yourself together. “I guess so. I mean, you’re not so terrible yourself.”

He laughs this time, his voice echoing in the dark cabin. “Thanks.”

I smile at the top bunk, looking at where I’d written “fuck off” last year. Is he coming on to me? I mean, probably not, but who wouldn’t at this point? 

His tone darkens a bit. “I’m really sorry, you know. For all the shit, recently,” it brightens back. “Even though the canoe “accident” was totally and completely your fault.” 

I laugh, loudly. I hear him flinch in his bed. “It’s okay,” I say after a moment. And suddenly, I’m standing. I’m looking right at him in the dark, his blue eyes shining almost as bright as the moon. His head is propped up with his hand, his arm resting on the pillow. It’s really quiet, and my heart is beating so fast I hear it in my ears. Damn, I hope he doesn’t hear it, too. 

“Are you sure?” his voice is barely over a whisper. 

I nod. Slowly. 

And then we’re kissing. I don’t even know how it happened, or who started it, or if we both did it at the same time, but it’s happening. His lips are soft and smooth against mine, but the kiss itself is rough and full of pent up anger that is being released. It’s hard and hot and gentle all at the same time, so many emotions poured into one action. His hands are cold and around the back of my neck; I’m shivering from his feverishly cold fingers. And as soon as it starts, it’s over. 

I’m shocked, a dazed smile on my face. “Wow.” 

“Oh, no.” 

Not the answer I was expecting.


End file.
